


An Exploration of Character - Part 2

by melpomeni_mandy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Angst, Comedy, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Gen, Hope, Past Abuse, Past Relationship(s), Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 22:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 9,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16841668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melpomeni_mandy/pseuds/melpomeni_mandy
Summary: It's that time again to share more drabbles of writing for Ahlis Ildilayan written for the FFXIVWrite2018 event on Tumblr. Throughout the month of November each day a writing prompt was given to be used as a basis of the written piece. Each prompt will have its own chapter regardless of length.This year there were many extra/free days during the challenge and as such the chapter numbers do not correlate to which day of the month each prompt corresponded to.





	1. Preface

**Chapter Index**

2\. Submerged

3\. Silenced

4\. Adytum

5\. Saving Time 

6\. Show of Hands

7\. Serendipitous

8\. Crag

9\. Dense

10\. Coward

11\. Accolade

12\. Results

13\. Validation

14\. Plateau

15\. Bonds

16\. Without A Trace

17\. Marked

18\. Gelid

19\. Two Birds with One Stone

20\. Repast

21\. Alms

22\. Undertone

23\. Not A Weapon

24\. Fling

25\. Echo

26\. Dote

27\. Close


	2. Submerged

It was laborious task to clean ones armor. Tedious, one might say, if it was elaborate or contained many parts made of different materials and metal. Yet as she bent over the large bucket filled with cool water, dressed down to her underthings, she remembered. 

She remembered what it was like when her mother’s hands had cleaned, washed and cared for her, and she remembered what it was like to do it all on her own in the absence that followed. She remembered the rules: rules, rules endless rules under Precious’ guidance and the slap against the back of her head if mistakes were made. It was not rough, or cruel, but she remembered. 

Ahlis didn’t need to clean her own clothes anymore. In fact she thought it might’ve seemed silly in its own way. The Warrior of Light! Bringer of Light, defender of Eorzea, eikon-slayer–and yet she still had time to do her own laundry. Yet why not pay to have it done for her? Surely she had the gil for it, or a favor be granted for her sake?

She grasped at the dark ramie cloth submerged under the water, the violet of her robes becoming almost black. It was smooth between her hands, fingers careful of the embroidery and the swirls of gold they made. She would take care of it–should take care of it–as she always had done before. She remembered, after all.


	3. Silenced

There were days that Ahlis knew she didn’t want to be a Blade anymore. It was a place with no doors or much light; a task-shaped prison. The sweat and blood of keeping an honest face when, in certain facets of the job, it was far from the truth. She believed a man’s honor lay in his actions, and there were days when very little honor was to be had.

“It comes with the job, alright? Sometime ye just got to turn yer eyes away,” Krowe had said to her when they had been alone, trading stories of their fellow Blades.

“So that’s how we are then? We accept ‘hush money’ s’long as it’s high enough?”

Ahlis had become indignant with him; the cups of cheap booze weren’t exactly helping but it made her more tolerable to deal with. Krowe slowly placed his hand over the rim of her cup and eased it back down upon the table. It wouldn’t do any good to have her sloshing it around.

“It’s not just bein’ quiet you know. Keepin’ your head out of shite bigger than you is important too. Ye wanna stay around don’t ya?”

“Then what’s th’ point? Why bloody even bother!”

Krowe sighed at that and released her. Most Blades–the good hearted ones at least–went through this dilemma. Most folk in Ul’dah didn’t understand how corruption work, or how deeply it seemed into every aspect of politics and city life. Being a Brass Blade…well, sometimes allowed to skirt along its edges. And if you were smart you kept it that way. ‘Hush money,’ as it were.

“I asked that m’self before.”

“And?”

“You learn t’live with it, or ye leave.”

Ahlis wasn’t satisfied with his answer; he watched as she scowled and looked away. Was she disappointed? Likely, but she didn’t say anything after that.

The evening ended, and time passed. Ahlis didn’t leave, and neither did he.


	4. Adytum

“Watch your head.”

Ahlis’s voice sounded muted against the small passage the two of them traversed. She took the lead, as she claimed she had been there before, while Alyx came from behind guided by the aetherlight summoned in her companion’s hand and her footfalls.

It was a natural tunnel, one of many the pair discovered during their infrequent explorations. Gyr Abania, it turned out, had a plethora of treasures beneath the surface beyond that of colorful sandstone and salt. 

“Here we are, see?”

The tunnel had stopped and opened into a high domed cavern. The walls had been smoothed over by the hand of man yet the ceiling still open cracks and dripstone that hung down like craggy fingers. The orb of light she carried intensified then and she lifted it up, allowing it to drift into the air like a bubble. The illuminated room held more than mere geological fascination, however.

“Look at this, over here,” Ahlis encouraged as she took the lead once more to show just exactly what she had found. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

Huddled together along one of the walls were numerous painted pictures and writings. There were numerous human figures, posed in positions for prayer and reverence. Above them all was the long-tailed star. It was all remarkably preserved given their age, yet why here, of all places did such a thing exist? Deep within the dark of the rock?

“This could have been a old temple, one of the first after the migration. Don’t you think?” Ahlis spoke again as she turned to see what Alyx thought. 

_She has been very quiet_ , Ahlis thought to herself as she watched her friend gaze upon the ancient art and writings of their ancestors.

“This is a holy place,” Alyx finally spoke, her voice taking a quiet sort of reverence, “you can feel it.”

Ahlis blinked and turned back to the wall, a curious feeling sitting in her chest. Could she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alyx Vance belongs to @aethernoise on tumblr and is written with permission)


	5. Saving Time

Ahlis flexed her hands for the umpteenth time that afternoon after placing the newly bound book within her desk drawer with the others. It was time for clean-up: her hands felt sore and strained. They even shook a little if she clenched them hard enough, but the work was finished for now.

It was quite the consuming process, the binding of new grimoires for personal use as well as those she’d take in the field. Formulae old, newer, and the notebooks meant for notes to take along as she went. It was a never-ending, the paper and the ink and quills. But that was arcanistry and arcanima: the work was never done. 

And while the making of one’s own grimoire did not save in time (and gods knew many simply purchased their blank books for use from reputable sources sanctioned within the guild itself), it did so in the name of pride. The artistry that many believed existed in their craft, from their summoning arrays to their series of equations, needed a canvas to be placed upon. 

She grabbed a long sheet of parchment covered with lists of materials used before grabbing her bag to leave: crystals, reams of high poly-blend parchment, adhesives, inks. It was time go back to the offices and, hopefully, for immediately reimbursement.


	6. Show of Hands

“Piss and blood,” Ahlis cursed and pushed her remaining cards aside, skewing them across the table. “To hells with this game!”

Tataru sat across from her at the table, the winning combination of triple triad cards before her upon the gaming board, her expression aghast. She never liked it when Ahlis got frustrated, it made for a moody friend and a volatile opponent.

“You know you become twice as easy to read when you let your mood get in the way!” Tataru insisted as she began to take up the cards again; this had been their third game, none of which Ahlis became the victor. “You can’t let them see you sweat.”

“I don’t know what it is,” Ahlis spoke after a moment, a hand resting upon her cheek as she propped herself by her elbow. Her eyes closed and she could feel the beginning of a headache within her temple. _I just want to win one bloody game…_

“You are doing better, trust me,” her fellow Scion assured her, smiling all the while. “It doesn’t look like it now…and you do have a ways to go,” she hesitated briefly as she saw Ahlis’s eyes open again, “but your goal is attainable. After all, you have me helping you!”

“Tataru,” Ahlis dragged her hand down her face and away from it to settle back down onto the table. “Why can’t you just, teach me weaknesses. How can I exploit him?”

Tataru shook her head and gave a defiant stare at her friend, her arms crossing her chest.

“That’s not how you’re going to win! You need better strategies, and a cooler head.”

“I can keep my cool,” Ahlis looked almost offended, even if only mere moments before her mouth got away with her. “Usually.”

“This isn’t a battlefield…well, it’s not one you’re comfortable with, yet!”

Tataru grinned and finished gathering the cards that had just been in play. Never had she thought she’d be the one instructing Ahlis on anything, yet here they were. It wasn’t getting to her head or anything of the sort, but as she watched Ahlis reach for hers once more the determination to help her still remained.

The Warrior of Light wasn’t a quitter, even if she did get angry and pout like she had earlier, and neither would she. Tataru reset the gaming board with more cards.

“Now, show me your hand that you’re going to play.”

Another practice game, another attempt. It was a going to be a long afternoon.


	7. Serendipitous

_Journal Entry XX (no date is given) —_

_The hour is late yet I find myself awake and all-too aware. I see the night and the stars from the window, the curtains pulled back. I know the moon would be lovely and bright were it not for the fire I try to keep burning in my room._

_He is across from me, half a room away, under one of my blankets no less. He is silent, sleeping. I envy his repose in this moment where I feel taken by all of my thoughts and emotion that I cannot speak; they die away when I try. My hands and mouth and everything of my body did plenty of speaking earlier, yet the voice cracks and crumbles and despairs._

~~_I am hopeless! Hopelessly taken by him. I am possessed! Mad! Worthy of laughter, of sneers. Look at this woman: heartsick! Selfish in her wants yet so full of scorn she was. Look at her now!_ ~~

_I really am trying. I try, but the words are ill-fitting. Or maybe I am ill-fitted for them?_

_I think (I think too much!) that had we met in another time, another way, this would not be so difficult for me. For us. For everything. I think to myself: what if our paths had crossed differently? To somehow find ourselves without even trying? No war, no hatred in my heart. No death. An utterly unexpected happiness._

_A silly dream! It is useless to think such things, I know. I know nothing can change. That somehow I ought to find joy in what we are given, in this present moment. Here and now._ ~~_How?_ ~~

_Here he is with me. I ache, I am tired. I feel so much, yet I know nothing. But he is here._


	8. Crag

“Can we rest for a moment?”

Alyx didn’t reply right away as she carried her companion along the ravine. She debated on what to do: Ahlis’s injury needed healing, something she could not readily provide, yet the heat of the day was growing. 

“I rather we didn’t. Your leg will only get worse and we need to keep moving.”

“I’m getting dizzy.”

The pit of worry grew yet Alyx remained firm. Letting Ahlis rest with a bad leg, a leg that was likely broken, would only lead to complications later, and longer healing.

“At least let me sit a moment to have a drink,” Ahlis asked again, the obstinate tone in her voice, while not something Alyx exactly missed, was typical of her friend.

They had just come around one of the bends of the path when a cluster of rock sat ahead with a shaded overhang. The rest of the rock face above it was steeper and worthy of a solid climb were it not for the injury Ahlis sustained earlier.

Alyx entered the shade and carefully bent over to allow Ahlis to sit upon the group. She hissed and sighed as she rested against the rock; she was perspiring, but Alyx had her beat.

“Maybe…we should wait out until after midday.” 

“I’ve already entertained one idea from you today,” Alyx replied as she yanked the canteen of water from her belt to hand to Ahlis, “I don’t think I’ll do another.”

“It’s technically two, remember? I wanted to try crossing Thanalan to reach Drybone before tomorrow to spare us longer travel…now look where we are.” Ahlis took the canteen and unscrewed the top to bring it to her lips.

“Fine, two. Now take your drink and let me look at that leg.”

Ahlis recoiled, and she would’ve backed away if she was capable of more movement. Her expression was rather aghast and puckered up with water from after having her drink. She swallowed.

“I thought you were shite for healing. What can you possibly do?”

“I know some first aid, and I only want to see.”

Ahlis did not seem convinced, yet Alyx had little in the ways of patience, even less in the hammering heat.

“Do you want to be carried out of here on my back, or over my shoulder? It’s your choice.”

Ahlis frowned, looking quite put out with her friend before she reluctantly allowed Alyx closer. 

“I have another perfectly working leg, you know. So if it hurts…”

“Noted,” Alyx smirked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alyx Vance belongs to @aethernoise on tumblr and is written with permission)


	9. Dense

The bell above the main doors to the shop jingled as they were opened and closed by a departing patron. A new entry left behind in the guestbook however, the ink slowing drying on the page. 

_Word of mouth has guided me to this quaint pastry shop that had newly opened after the liberation of the city and after trying today’s special of lemon and poppy seed pound cake I felt it worthy enough of mention._

_I am not overly fond of tart baked goods, yet the offerings at Pinion Patisserie are certain to change my mind. Perfectly dense and light on the taste buds, there was no overpowering sourness anywhere to be found. The drizzled icing was just enough and the inclusion of the poppy seeds gave it the tiniest bit of texture, which gives this particular cake its character._

_You’ll be pleased to know that only crumbs remained on my plate. If that is not proof enough of my conversion then perhaps another visit for more is in order. Hopefully then I can give my congratulations for his growing business and support to the chef pâtissier Mister Aubrey himself._

_Ahlis Ildilayan_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Rothe Aubrey & Pinion Patisserie belong to @kukurubean on tumblr and were written with permission)


	10. Coward

She was hurtling towards the end and she didn’t know it. One more inch down the rope growing shorter, one more dive, jump, run, whisked along the aether currents across half the known world and back.

Constantly moving, time blurred together, the faces and beings and presence of those she came to know always winking back into her life only to disappear in a blink. It was cruel, sometimes. She kept moving.

Yet now much of what she held was slipping, disappearing, gone. What was certain? Light, and shadow. Justice, sacrifice. So, so much sacrifice.

There was no stopping now, the time for that had passed. A Warrior she now was: of Light, of slaying beasts and primals, of liberation. Many were her accomplishments, her titles and accolades, her legend would live on in song and story and embolden new warriors like herself chosen by the Mothercrystal. To teach them no fear, no feat was truly impossible.

But that would not be the whole truth, for the Warrior of Light, in all her exceptional might, was still very much a mortal woman. How did she persevere? 

Love, they would say. Love was always the answer, as many of the golden-hearted believed. And it that there was truth, despite the hidden, ambiguous nature of her heart. But with it came the greatest weakness: the terror of loss. 

Even that could turn the greatest warrior into a coward.


	11. Accolade

The armor that was commissioned for her had been gifted without any pomp or ceremony; she requested that much at least be done as she did not care for further attention. She had other matters to worry over in regards to the armor: how would it feel? Were the colors to her liking? And would it do anything against the dreadful, damnable cold? She disliked the idea of being ungrateful, but a woman had wants and needs; Ahlis was no exception.

Yet when she stood outside the entrance of the Borel Manor she took a moment to reflect. If she had qualms over the gift she would have not accepted it, impertinent as that may be; she would not be wearing it now as she halted in the fair snow fall that came that early evening. And what better moment to share her approval, and impressive silhouette, than over dinner?

Ahlis reached into one of the cleverly masked pockets of her robe for a key and the sight of its dark metal against her gloved palm gave her a sense of comfort. It was not without caution, forever settling in her mind like a thorn the moment a gentle thought for another came to her, but tonight she would indulge herself. This was a privilege she would not waste.

Putting the key into the lock she turned it fully, and entered.


	12. Results

Ahlis enjoyed to dip her toes into the theoretical. There was much to explore in the realm of arcanima in this regard, yet there was a limit. A kind of threshold that crossed from the intriguing to the downright esoteric and incredibly niche specialties. 

Ahlis favored practicality; she favored results even more. Yet when it came to agreeing to step in as an assistant-of-sorts to run testing for another researcher’s work it was nothing short of disaster.

The arrays have already been proofed before, yet why were her’s not properly channeling? Ahlis double and triple cross-checked her work, yet she was unable to replicate what should have been the same data as cataloged before. The first test failure was not alarming. The second was more annoying than anything else. By the third time however the doubt was creeping in: not for the material she was now handling, but in herself.

The remains of the last test–also ending in failure–left Ahlis in a vice-like grip of worry. She was alone in the lab that early evening (not proper protocol, as there should always be a second to witness, let alone to take notes) but these were tests that she was entrusted with that were simple, ones that she could certainly do on her own.

The thoughts of worry were spiraling into that of incompetence, followed by shame. 

_This is my own doing. I do not understand something, so of course it’s failing._

Ahlis sighed and stood up from her stool to stretch; it was time to call it an night. Perhaps with a clearer mind and fresh slate she would see where everything was going so poorly. She began to gather her things and to clean her work station when a book plopped over like so, the inside cover wide open to the title page. On the opposite side was a written note and Ahlis gave pause. 

It was a text that was given as a gift, a classic on applications for standard arrays and their functions, by none other than Synnove Greywolfe herself. It was a thoughtful offering, a very handy one too, for her years of study in the guild. Ahlis liked to think the other woman wished for her success, if anything, despite the expanse that separated the fields they tended to stick to. Ahlis looked back up and stared at the equipment before her. Thinking.

Some time later, Ahlis emerged from the lab with her things gathered up in her bag. She passed by the front offices on her way out of the guild entrance and deftly slipped a letter into a mailbox before departing.

Let’s see what her fellow arcanist thought on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Synnove Greywolfe belongs to @dragons-bones on tumblr and written with permission)


	13. Validation

“Warm enough?” Ahlis asked as she took her seat beside him, offering to join her within said blanket. She was dressed for sleep, yet he still remained clothed in full from the day.

Aymeric smiled and accommodated her by lifting an arm. Ahlis easily nudged herself into his side and the self-same arm took a careful repose upon her back. 

“I still have yet to learn the climes of Gyr Abania,” Aymeric admitted, “the fluctuations of warm to cold are reminiscent Coerthas before the Calamity.”

“Yet not nearly as dry, I’ll bet.”

“Agreed.” 

A small smile came to her lips as she felt him press against her hair, lips and nose bestowing a gentle touch.

“I didn’t want you to go that night, remember? The liberation,” Ahlis said quietly, her eyes on the flames. “I lied. I did a lot of stupid things that day, didn’t I.”

She did not face him as she smiled bitterly for herself a rueful sort of shame growing in her chest. Aymeric said nothing, the sudden shift between her moods, where it once surprised him, now did not shake his confidence nearly as sharply. He may not have seen it yet within her eyes, yet her voice and her movements told him all he needed.

“Surely you must recall what I told you as well?” 

“You mean your letters? Of course I do, they gave me such relief.”

“And yet you still linger on the past. Why do you choose this?”

Ahlis didn’t respond right away, and it was then that she sort of turned to see him, her eyes far away as she considered her thoughts.

“I, I wanted to apologize…I suppose, that’s why.”

Aymeric straightened himself then and immediately Ahlis felt the lack of him next to her. The urge to keep him there struck her, yet her worry was unneeded as he reached for her again, but this time for her hands. Together they were clasped, much like that night of celebration, their eyes meeting once more.

“I cannot claim to know the difficulties you face when expressing your desires, Ahlis. You were in pain, and we all are capable of doing harm when emotions run high.”

Ahlis felt her chest tighten at the sound of his soothing voice; the vulnerability it made her feel was an old, painful and familiar friend. It was everything she knew she ought to feel, and yet yearned to fight it. 

But tonight she would not, much like the night where they shared stories and hopes and confessions over a bottle of wine. Tonight she dared to feel it all again.

“We have forgiven each other, have we not?” Aymeric’s lips moved and curled just so, into that unmistakable smile. “Do not burden yourself any longer, my dear friend. Let us savor the time we have now.”

It was slow, at first, the strike of her growing emotions in that moment. Emotions for herself, for her stubbornness and her ruthless nature to never give in, for him. Her eyes closed and she was overcome, captivated, and finally, truly released.


	14. Plateau

It had been a considerable hike to reach the top of the floating precipice of rock. Earlier she had made a landing down below in a space not entirely uneven or jagged with colorful, semi-translucent green stone. Yet to go where she truly wanted required a pair of strong hands and tough feet, all of which she had thankfully enough.

The wind could’ve been worse that day; Ahlis dared to say it was fairly mild, as far as gusts and billowing air currents tended to be in the Sea of Clouds. But the view was spectacular from where she stood, the rock flattened and made even by time and the elements. The distant horizon was awash in white, both wispy and thick puffs of clouds that reminded her of early summer back in Vylbrand. The floating islands stretched out before her, above and below, casting large swaths of shadow against the light of the early afternoon sun. That particular vista was quiet in terms of living flora or fauna, yet the view before her was alive with all manners of creatures, both flying and terrestrial.

It was a sight that gripped her right in the gut, a grip to somehow jump and take flight, were it that she had literal wings of her own. Her heart felt light, wondrous. 

_Wouldn’t it be lovely to share this with another as well?_

The thought had come unbidden and slowly settled back into her heart where it rested deep. The liberation in traveling along was strong in Ahlis’s heart, yet sometimes that same voice returned. Asking, _telling_ her—next time, bring a friend.


	15. Bonds

She had been racking her wrists against the bars for what felt like ages. Crying. Screaming. Finally falling silent except for the _tang!-tang!-tang!_ of her handcuffs. Over and over, back and forth. No one came. It was dark in the cell, empty aside for her. Some times a slit of light would pass overhead from a high up cut in the wall, her only indication of time passing at all.

What she also knew was that her memory of the outside city was beginning to fade, further and further away her recollection of the world beyond began to drift; it scared her. A new child reaching a new city with walls and parapets that reached so high she could not recall a grander sight in ages. So she kept striking her wrists against the barred wall of her prison, _tang!-tang!-tang!_ in hopes that somehow, somebody would hear her.

Footfalls jolted her back from the trance of her wrists clanging metal against metal, and the girl pressed her face against the same bars that kept her in. Two adults arrived—armored and very much alike to those who threw her in her cage– and one of then, the man, kicked the bars near where she sat. She flinched.

“Bleeding hells, girl. It’s jus’ you causing all that racket down here?” He spat as he stared down his broad nose to look upon her. “Should’ve bound you from behind, tch.”

The other, a woman and larger than any she’d seen, crouched down before the gaol cell. Her stare was different: it was piercing, yet no outward cruelty reigned within.

“What’s your name?” The woman asked.

“…Ahlis.” The girl spoke after a pause.

“And your other name. The name of your family.”

That, for some reason or another, was more difficult to squeeze out of her, as Ahlis did not say. The woman sighed through her noise.

“We’re going to be here a long time if I cannot even have your full name.”

“Ah come off it, Presh,” the man spoke again, clearly the impatient one out of the two. “What good is it in making the girl talk?”

‘Presh’ half-turned her face towards the man and said nothing, her gaze doing all of the talking for her, before she turned back to the girl in the cell.

_Can this be her? His daughter…_

“Let me take a guess then. Is it…Corr? Mathid?”

The names drew no response from her. A silence hung for a moment, then another, before the woman spoke again.

“What about, Ildilayan?”

That drew a response from Ahlis, her eyes darting to look at her before looking aside. She knew even the littlest provocation would work; this girl wasn’t an urchin of Ul’dah where many streets turned numerous youths into everything from starving cravens to cunning thieves.

“Well, Ahlis Ildilayan, we’re going to see if you really ought to stay here all by your lonesome…or if there’s more to your story.”

“I never said that was m’name,” Ahlis spoke, but the woman stood erect again and grabbed a set of keys from her belt. She unlocked the door swiftly, making her scramble back from the bars.

“You don’t need you. But something tells me you won’t be arguing if it means your freedom, aye?”

The woman closed the door behind her before her partner could follow suit, walking over to the slab of rock jutting from the wall that served as the ‘bed’ to the place. The man chuffed to himself and took a few paces away from the cell, taking his cue.

Ahlis didn’t know what to do besides watch the woman as she sat in front of her with that same piercing glare. Her stomach began to twist in knots.

“I’m Precious Spinel, captain of the Brass Blades. This is Ul’dah, and it matters not if you’re man, woman or child should you tamper or steal a man’s coin. Everyone comes to the gaol. But sometimes people can leave it, even avoid it if they’re slippery enough…but you’ll need help.”

Precious leaned back, as far as one could given the narrow shape of the rock slab she sat upon, and crossed her arms.

“Now. Tell me everything that happened before you reached the city,” Precious pressed, words heavy, “The details matter, you understand?”

There was another pause, and Ahlis still remained silent, a silent debate on what to do, or say. Finally, the girl relented and bows her chin with a small nod, then, another.

_Good. Now, let’s see how your daughter fares at telling the truth, Darem…_


	16. Without A Trace

The book within her grasp was held to her chest with both arms as she entered the study of Borel Manor. Ahlis had promised to return said book and she would undoubtedly borrow more if she desired it; she was generously given permission after all, a kindness was would be taken advantage of as much as possible so long as she made her visitations to Ishgard. 

She approached the shelf where she knew she pulled the novel from when the smallest of mews came from up above. Ahlis stopped and, sure enough, a certain elderly feline had gotten themselves atop of the bookcase along the same wall. 

“How in the blazes did you get up there?” Ahlis asked, apparently to nobody as the cat refused to say another peep. “Aren’t you a little old for this sort of thing?”

The true lord of the manor did not budge yet kept an eye on her as she placed the book aside and prompted place her hands on her hips. Another mew, this time more dour than the last.

“Well, sounds like you need assistance, hm?”

Ahlis looked back to the doorway, then again to the top of the bookshelves. This was incredibly amusing, and unfortunate the only one there at the moment to witness it, yet she could handle this. All that was needed was a boost up. The cat watched as Ahlis grabbed one of the sitting chairs and dragged it towards the bookshelf, removed her boots and proceeded to stand up on the upholstered seat in her attempt to reach the feline.

Another mew was given as the cat began to move, fidgeting in their place.

“Don’t you dare make this more difficult you–ah!”

Apparently pushing oneself onto the balls of the feet was not a good idea in keeping balance as she teetered over and grappled with the bookshelf, hanging onto for dear life as the chair toppled beneath her. Ahlis steadied herself by putting her feet wherever she could find a nook to put her toes as she breathed until the pit in her stomach disappeared.

“I swear, you fuzzy bastard, if you…” Ahlis said through gritted teeth as she began to try and inch herself closer. It was then that the cat hopped and crawled over the elaborate wooden molding of the bookcase, farther out of reach.

“No! Get back here–!”

Suddenly one of the shelves gave way, snapping under the pressure of her body and Ahlis fell, books and all.

—

Ser Aymeric had arrived as soon as he was able. The notice had been brought to him, a welcomed reprieve from the endless tending to of paperwork and orders, until he learned of what had happened. He walked brusquely towards the infirmary where he was told she would be resting, arriving just as the last of the chirugeons had finished their work. 

Ahlis was sitting upright with a small wrapping of ice upon her crown; he saw that first, and then the tightly wound bandage and sling upon her left arm. 

_A small bump of the head and a broken wrist, all mended well_ , he remembered the missive had stated. She would need rest, of course, yet judging from the tired and near-petulant look upon her face Aymeric knew she just barely tolerated being there.

“Oh, you’re here,” Ahlis said as she noted his arrival, his approach towards the bed earning her slight bashfulness. “You didn’t have to come, I’m fine.”

“You are injured, my friend, and within my own home. How could I not?”

“Yes, well, I certainly gave everyone at the manor half a heat attack with my fall,” Ahlis looked up to him, as if between a laugh and an apology. “I also spooked the cat. I don’t know where they vanished off to after, what happened.”

“And pray, tell me how this all this all occurred?” Aymeric had come closer then, taking a seat at the foot of the bed.

She bit her lip briefly, once again finding herself at the other end of the conversation in an attempt to explain, well, everything. Idiocies included. So, she took a breath and leaned back into the infirmary bed’s pillow.

“You’re going to laugh,” Ahlis remarked, the corner of her mouth twisting into a half smile. 

“Perhaps…” Aymeric smiled in turn.


	17. Marked

___Journal Entry XX –_

_I was out very early this morning, early enough to catch the sun rise. That is a rare thing these days, for I love my sleep far more than I did when I began my work in Limsa those years ago. Early to rise to work and work and practice and then do more work! Alas, the habit is (mostly) broken._

_So, like clockwork, when left alone to marvel at sky at such an hour I began to think. I think I am marked forever to not know peace. I know I have had respite long enough to settle—at least enough to keep going, I suppose—but that is not peace. It’s merely a pause, a holding of one’s breath, before the mad dashing and fighting and everything else my life has become begins all over again._

_What a life this is! And what manner of death will I yet to see?_ ~~_I fear_ ~~

_I know I will see more before mine own comes to pass._

_I know I am also chosen. That too is a mark, for all that it entails. The axes spins around me, they turn and shift. I decide the directions they take even if I feel I know nothing._ ~~_Hah! Such pride I have_ ~~ _I have yet to be proven wrong_

_I must remember this. I can still decide what to can and will do. I can choose a better fate._


	18. Gelid

“You want to laugh, don’t you?”

Ahlis spoke to him from beneath the veritable fortress of blankets, pillows and a woven throw or two tossed on for good measure. She had taken over the reading nook that sat directly near a fireplace yet completely omitted in drawing the curtains closed. That was to be his true inquiry, yet Ahlis, ever at her defense, was at the ready.

“Go on then,” she goaded, “I can see that look in your eye that you’re dying to say something.”

Aymeric never wished to argue, or even trade barbs–playful as they may be–with Ahlis despite her neverending desire to provoke him. She took some sort of impish pleasure in forcing his brow to furrow and twitch and he had to decide if he found such a trait endearing or downright spiteful. He approached closer and took his spot to sit with what little room remained of the cushioned seat.

“You are ever at the mercy of Ishgard’s weather, it seems.”

“I am! This place is a frigid h–,” Ahlis stopped and fussed under her coverings. She didn’t need to elaborate, “you know what I mean.” 

She huffed then, pouting. Her feet began to wiggle, as if trying to stay warm. 

“Shall I bring you anything?” Aymeric asked, not failing to see her attempt to squirm even further under. 

“I’d love some tea,” she sighed, “yet I have no idea how I’d drink it like this.”

“Too cold even for tea. You must be suffering.”

“Oh, you…!” Her face scrunched up some and at that Aymeric couldn’t help himself a chuckle. “Ah, there it is. Finally. Maybe you’ll offer me a straw as well to continue your amusement.”

“A straw to take your tea, now that I would never dream to see.”

Aymeric smiled and softly took his hands to gather the blankets closest to Ahlis’s feet, He tucked them closely together, bundling them up further and more strongly in an attempt to soothe her ailing toes.

“Is that better?” He asked, looking up to her again.

“Yes,” Ahlis said softly as she watched, her eyes peering over the soft edge of one of her blankets. “Thank you.”


	19. Two Birds With One Stone

Adjacent on the other page from this entry is a written table of various aetheric values and just below it a scribbled out diagram that is nearly illegible. 

_Journal Entry XX –_

_There’s no going around it. I thought I was being clever! Hah! I could have sworn there was something way to half the–[the writing is smudged here]–and save me some trouble in recalculating how to re-balance the values._

_[more smudged ink blots the page]_

~~_I wish I wasn’t so damned awful at this bloody damned mathma_ ~~

_[more scribbles…]_

_Of course I didn’t bring my reference tables with me. Trying to replicate it from memory is proving far too laborious a task. I’m going to attempt again tomorrow…and grab the right damn book this time!_

_[down below the end of the entry is another sentence, written much smaller]_

_anything than having to go through the agony of having my numbers cross-checked again I can do it myself godsdamnit_


	20. Repast

She carefully crossed the bedroom as she slipped the robe upon her body, fastening the cord around her waist deftly in silence. There was care in every movement, precise toe-to-heel steps as she walked, mindful of how she made it from the warm confines of the bed to the door.

There was new company that remained there, after all, and Ahlis did not wish to wake them. Not yet, at least.

She looked back one last time, a long strip of sunlight from the adjacent window beginning its creep upon the covers, only a shock of tousled hair visible beneath nestled within the sheets. Ahlis did not know how morning-after talk was supposed to go; she never had a chance to. It made her stomach become a knot of nerves if she stuck her thoughts too long on it. So, she had a better idea: food. Breakfast, to be precise. Thus she slipped away from the bedroom, closing the door just so yet not entirely, before making her way to the kitchen while both hands pulled her hair back to the nape of her neck to form a ponytail.

The stove was prepped, the icebox opened. A couple eggs remained, thank goodness; these would do. As the cast iron skillet slowly heated she cracked and whisked the eggs, straining them, and set them aside. She grabbed whatever vegetables she had on hand: onions, scallions, and popotoes, and set to work. 

It was soothing in a way, the repetition of cutting and slicing. It made her focus, even if the onions did a number on her eyes and fingers. Fried popotoes would go well with eggs in any form, it was a pity she didn’t have more to add to them, such as bacon or any kind of meat really. But that did not deter her from working with what she had. The skillet was ready and the cubed onions went in first, followed by the popotoes as the onion sizzled with the melted butter. 

In between the cooking and keeping an eye on the food she prepped the coffee pot with water to set it boiling, the idea that now she was noisily multitasking in the kitchen was sure to eventually alert her guest. Cups were taken from the cabinet and set upon the table, plates and silverware too. In what felt like no time at all the popotoes were well on their way to being almost done, and that’s when Ahlis finally heard the sound of movement from beyond the kitchen.

Steps approached now; it gave her goosebumps along her arms, a tension in her stomach grew as those familiar knots returned. Ahlis busily stirred the popotoes, careful not to burn them. Then they stopped just within the threshold of the kitchen.

Ahlis turned to face her, in all her just-woken glory, and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alyx Vance belongs to @aethernoise on tumblr and is written with permission)


	21. Alms

Ahlis raised her hand and knocked her knuckle on the door before resuming her stance as she waited outside the residence, hands clasped before her. She was dressed in her ossuary robes, black hood raised up and made of simple linen and cotton, and much too hot to wear in the Thanalan heat.

The door opened and a hyur man stood there, peering from behind it. He didn’t look unfriendly. Suspicious, perhaps, yet not hostile. Not yet, anyway.

_Good_ , she thought quickly, before she began to speak.

“Good day to you, ser. I am a member of the Arrzaneth Ossuary, of our great city of Ul’dah. Do you have a moment for the less fortunate?”

This was when the door usually closed promptly in her face, yet this time there was hesitation, as if he was debating to do just there…or maybe to listen.

“What’re you here for?”

“I here for the sake of those who have no means to prepare for the afterlife. Are you familiar with the sacred rites of Thal, ser?”

“Can’t say I am…I know some…” 

Seems a little unsure; he was likely not a follower of much capacity. There was still a chance to keep him interested, however.

“That is all well and good, ser, I am more than willing to enlighten you with the knowledge of the hereafter. All of us must prepare as much as we can.”

Ahlis took a half step towards the door; a mistake. The man shook his head and kept himself firmly near the door, as if teetering on readying to close it. She stopped and went no further.

“M’not interested in your cult, n’whatever it is–”

“Yes ser, of course, I didn’t mean to offend,” Ahlis raised up her hands in deference to him and to appease his worries.”Will you consider making a small donation for those who cannot afford their proper burials? All donations will be given to…”

The door was shut, and that was that. Her shoulders slumped and she stepped away from the house, her steps taking her down the rest of the row of homes. 

“Any luck on your side?” A fellow from the ossuary, also on alms duty that month, sat under a stall awning beside one of the busier streets. They were to meet once they finished canvassing and go back together. Her name was Musuru, a dunesfolk lalafell.

“Ten gil in total,” Ahlis replied glumly. That made her company laugh and snort.

“Ten?! Oh dear. I’m afraid you’re not cut out for this sort of work.”

Musuru pulled out her water skin and offered it and Ahlis took it readily, pouring some of the water into her hand to splash her forehead and hair, her hood thrown back.

“Maybe if they didn’t send us to this wretched part of the city we’d have better luck,” Ahlis retorted, “this is a poor neighborhood, even if it is a ways from Pearl.”

“Yeah well, somebody’s gotta try huh?”

_Try, indeed_. How did those of Saint Adama Landama even cope, and all they subsisted on were volunteers.

“Come on,” Musuru pushed herself up and began to walk ahead. “Better luck in the next neighborhood, right?”

Ahlis followed behind, feeling the slow, dreaded agony of their task fester in her chest. 


	22. Undertone

_Journal Entry XX –_

_Today was taxing. I don’t know why I volunteer to step in and take over instruction for the first years when I’m only going to be criticized for it. Introductory classes for summoning are very basic and better taught by visible instruction and hands-on practice, yet apparently taking up the majority of class time in the practice areas is frowned upon._

“ _Your classmates are not the only ones needing to use these areas.” No shite. But you can’t spent all your time only memorizing, application is just as important, obviously._

_Anyway, I had to write a formal excuse as to why I insisted on more field practice than usual. I thought it was agreeable, but when I went to verify my submittal I was told to redo it. Redo it! Something about the wording??_

~~_I swear there are some departments and some people here with their heads so far up their own arse I want to scream!! be more stupid please I have all the time in the world to waste on this garbage_ ~~

_Well I redid it anyway, not like I have a choice. Second time was the charm._

~~_I’m not doing this again I swear I’m not g_ ~~

_I just rechecked the schedule for next month’s exam layouts. Who takes a vacation right before midterms?!_

The bottom of the page is filled with nothing but a mess and jumble of ink blots and scribbles.


	23. Not A Weapon

The water had become lukewarm by the time Ahlis pulled her body up and out of the bath. Her feet touched and sank into the the woven mat, plush beneath her toes. Across the room the long mirror that hung above the vanity reflected her image, the shadows of lamp and candlelight highlighting the curves and slopes of her body. Little tendrils that had escape the bundle of hair she placed almost atop of her head were soaked and clung to her neck, making dark swirls upon her skin.

She grabbed a nearby towel and slowly patted herself dry, yet for some reason that evening she found herself lazily considering her reflection.

Her skin was remarkably unblemished for someone like her: a woman of her skill and repertoire. She was not perfection, yet pride remained in her yet whenever she could spare a moment to soothe her legs, arms and stomach with lotion. When she had the freedom to lightly sprinkle perfumed oil upon her neck and breast. In the soft, comforting light of the bath she did not look the part of the woman whom almost everyone knew her to be: thaumaturge or arcanist, warrior of warriors, a weapon of light.

Nobody knew of these moments she kept to herself, now so rare to experience, beholden like a secret. In these interludes, she could almost forget. 

Ahlis approached closer to the vanity, ready to sit and prepare her hair with a comb and brush, and her eye caught it then: the faint mark that cut along her shoulder, down almost to the center of her chest. 

Almost.


	24. Fling

Ahlis was leaning forward, arms crossed and upon the table with her head resting upon them as she watched the knife, bottle and small ax twirl and circle in the air. 

“Where did you learn such a thing Tataru?” Ahlis looked at her fellow Scion, unable to hold in her curiosity. “Were you part of some travelling entourage or something? Or maybe a circus?”

Ahlis smiled as Tataru grinned back.

“If only I had such skill! I’ve just started, you know.”

“Really? You seem to have the knack for it.”

“And if I get really, really good at it, I can take my juggling all the way to Ul’dah! Then we’ll really be pulling in some coin right off the street!”

Ahlis lifted her head and tried not to sigh too loudly. First it had been the attempts at arcanima, then mining…now this? Street performing?

“Well, nobody can say you didn’t try.”

Tataru’s smile only grew, her attention stolen away only for a moment, yet it was enough for her hands to fumble and just like that she lost her rhythm. The bottle hit the floor, thankfully not breaking, but the knife and ax sunk right into the rug blades first. 

Tataru held her hands to her chest in shock, which quickly changed into a somber defeat. Oh, well.


	25. Echo

“Do you remember when we first came here?”

Ahlis sat to one side of a large metal grate on the ground; Krowe was on the other. It was thick and did not budge, even when one jumped upon it.

“Yeah, sure do. Thought it was the funniest thing.”

Ahlis smiled a little then, recalling her fascination. It wasn’t the metal grate exactly, more like what rested below it. There was an expanse, a whole system of old tunnels and the like, or so rumor told, that if you knew where to go you could yell and the stone would yell right back. This was one such place, and back then Ahlis must have spent a good half-bell thinking of all things to scream into the grate and beyond it, to hear the return of her voice.

“Think I should try again for old time’s sake? I had a few good ones.”

“Still a kid I see. C’mon, we’re relaxin’ for a reason.”

Ahlis laughed, and she wouldn’t kicked him a little with her foot then too if he wasn’t so far away. Patrols were so dull even she would try and let loose in between their shifts. Even if it meant yelling nonsense down a hole in Ul’dah.

“Sure is shit bein’ poor,” Krowe spoke after a bit, “I’d get us a drink every night. Then we’d never have to sit out here like the rest of ‘em, nothing to do.”

She looked over to him, a sinking feeling entering her chest. He was thinking about money and all its troubles more and more as of late. She did not press the matter much.

“I don’t mind this, you know that. It’s the company that matters, right?”

“Yeah, but,” Krowe looked up and back at the narrow corridor of sky above them, “we just, deserve better is all. You deserve better.”

His voice had come quiet at the end and Ahlis’s eyes fell, still saying nothing.


	26. Dote

They did not live together. Not really, in the traditional sense at least. Yet there were times when sharing places made more sense. Places to share a meal, or to rest. In that lull between moving place to place, if time allowed.

Those moments became special in their own way. When she wasn’t looking there would suddenly be flowers bound in ribbon on the table, or in a large cup, even a vase if it was there. Many times they were her favorite: roses. Sometimes notes would be left behind, quick words of affection written in a hurry for the mornings could not share together but always in places she was sure to find them. 

When evenings came and it was time for sleep she never failed to receive a kiss goodnight: upon her temple, or her hair, her hands and her cheek. There was trepidation, always, a kind of careful consideration that was both endearing with yet the all-too familiar pangs of frustration.

Ahlis wanted distance, a measure of space between them, even now. And Alyx wanted closeness, in every sense of the word. The path of affection was a winding one, even as they settled in for the night with the softness and vulnerability of resting in each other’s presence. 

_I’m sorry if I seem like a maze_ , Ahlis spoke her thoughts in the dark as she turned her eyes where she knew Alyx lay beside her. _If only I wasn’t so difficult_.

She rolled over, closer, the warmth of the blankets beginning to lull her to sleep. Her heart felt so strange: full, yet anxious. She tried to tell herself not to worry, for what little good it did. The tips of her fingers reached out, carefully touching the splay of Alyx’s hair on the pillow. 

_Please be patient with me_. Ahlis closed her eyes and hoped: for sleep to come swiftly, and for herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Alyx Vance belongs to @aethernoise on tumblr and was written with permission)


	27. Close

There is an unfinished letter in her journal, a draft most likely, that is undated. There is no addressee either.

… _I am terrible with words yet even as I write them here they feel so inadequate and foreign and useless. Do you know what it feels like? To have doors and arms open yet none of them move you? It is like being frozen, through and through, and all you can do is wonder why nothing changes. You can’t force it, you can’t close your eyes to it, it’s just how it is. Then the worst part? You swear on your heart that you watch them grow further and further away._

_Well, it’s not what I want. I tire of my stupidity. Of my aching everything._

_If only_ ~~_we_ ~~ _I could bridge the distance. The gap of time, caused by misfortune. I know I am made of stronger stuff, yet for all my so-called strength and fortune what I need most now is softness. I do not know where to find it._

_How does one become soft after war? After such attrition? To remain kind? It must have existed before such crisis, lest how does one return?_

~~_I don’t know what to do  
How can I make sense of this for you?_ ~~

_Can one start over? To try again, truly? If I can, at least in some small, intricate way  
Maybe then I can stand with you, side by side, and not feel like a stone._


End file.
